


An Interruption

by writersstareoutwindows



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, i just like this scene and thought it'd be interesting between these two, there's a lot of potential in a crossover with season one of ouat, will i write more?? maybe if i need to procrastinate again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 09:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12554676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writersstareoutwindows/pseuds/writersstareoutwindows
Summary: “I only have one question. What do they call you?”And John’s attention was back. He smiled politely, as if she were somewhat dense. “John. It’s my name.”in which Lucretia runs a small town and John runs an odd pawn shop





	An Interruption

She hadn’t meant to take it.

She’d been searching his back room—that part, yes, intentional—and there it had been, locked in a drawer that was tucked behind a perfectly misplaced stack of books. She had seen Merle’s little travelling chess set, and it wasn’t just a piece of home or a piece of him—it was both, it was a board they’d played on together, it was wooden pieces carved by Magnus, it was one of the few things he’d taken with him when he became the Hunger’s hostage. He’d come home without it, but until then he’d had it as long as she knew him.

She saw it, and she took it, and she got out before John came back.

It wasn’t what she had wanted, in two respects. In one, she’d been looking for magic relics from home; they had a habit of cropping up in John’s shop. She’d been looking, too, for something to confirm her fear—a hint of a diary, a note, some indication that he remembered.

In another respect, she hadn’t wanted John to turn violent, but he had. She hadn’t expected it, either; he was so reserved, in this world and before it. But when Taako reported that he’d arrested John outside Lucretia’s house for smashing in windows, he mentioned that John had been shouting about stolen property.

And she knew. And her fingers found the wooden pieces in her bag, the familiar shape—this one a  bishop, that one a queen. In a third respect, she might have found the confirmation she wanted, after all.

It was just that she really, really did not want it. Standing outside the office door, her stomach made of lead, she did not want to be right.

But she had done a lot of things she didn’t want to do, in this world and before it. Lucretia took a deep breath and opened the door.

Taako, feet kicked up on the desk, glanced through his eyelashes as she entered. “Hey, Lulu, shouldn’tcha be talking to a window guy or something?”

“Don’t–” Lucretia’s voice cracked. She had to smooth the hurt out of it. “Don’t call me that.”

Taako rolled his eyes. “Yeesh, okay, Madame Mayor. Question’s still standing.”

“Are you interrogating prisoners now?”

The voice came from the corner cell. Instead of turning his swivel chair, Taako tipped his head back. Lucretia clutched her bag and stared at John. He was leaning neatly against the bars, arms outstretched, fingers steepled.

“My property was damaged. I would like to know why. And it’s my job to look after my citizens.”

Her tone was as abrasively even as his.

Taako rolled his head to get a look at her. “I mean, he’s got a point. I called in just to let y’know, ‘cause–I mean, yeah, your property. And I get you probably wanna press charges but, like, I can’t let you wail on the guy or whatever. You do your job and I’m gonna do mine, is that–that makes sense, right? Like–I’m right, right?”

He swivelled toward the cell. John nodded his agreement.

Lucretia sighed. “Angus is going to need someone to walk him home from school in a few minutes…”

Taako swivelled back. “That one’s your job, homeslice.”

“Leave for twenty minutes and I’ll get you extra days of paid vacation?” She cringed as she said it, but Taako was already on his feet.

“Well, wait, that can’t be–”

Taako fired finger guns at John. “See ya ‘round, my dude!”

As soon as the door closed, John’s head dropped. At the approaching click of Lucretia’s shoes, he looked up.

“Would you like me to pay for the damage?”

Lucretia perched on the arm of a couch. She put her bag on her lap so that she could hide her shaking hands by clutching the chess set inside.

“I would like to know why you attacked my home.”

John sat on the edge of his bed, putting them at eye level. But there was a line to his body that reminded her he should stay caged.

“Then we both want something from each other. The makings of a fair deal.”

Lucretia envied his perfectly calm voice. Her heart beat so quickly that it rattled her thoughts out of sync.

“Perhaps,” she managed. “If you can agree to be honest.”

“Despite my accommodations,” John cast a glance around the cell, “I’m not the thief here.”

Indignation sharpened Lucretia’s gaze into a glare. She drew the chess set from her bag, and, there–John’s breath caught. Unnoticeable, if she hadn’t been seeking a gap in his facade. She opened it to prove that every painstakingly small piece was nestled inside. With his focus on them instead of her, Lucretia recovered her pride.

“I only have one question. What do they call you?”

And John’s attention was back. He smiled politely, as if she were somewhat dense. “John. It’s my name.”

Lucretia leaned forward, clutching the chess set. “What did they call you before?”

John remained perfectly still. Only his face changed: the smile too wide, the teeth too bright, the eyes too white.

In the same tone of perfect calm, he said, “The Hunger.”

Had she felt fear before? Dread, yes, she had felt that. But not fear, because this–this was fear. How long had he known, and, what was he planning, and–the one that stabbed her–had it all been for nothing?

But his white eyes arrested every thought. She realized that she was staring at him, and that she was gripping the chess set so tightly that her arms shook.

She released it with a breath.

“I appreciate your honesty,” she said, closing the set, “but this was never yours to begin with.”

She wouldn’t look at him as she rose to her feet. It was like staring into the past, into the fear and darkness of a decade past. She had erased those years for a reason.

But he rose too, his body a tight line, his fingers claws around the bars. His voice fractured when he said, “Madame Director, he isn’t dead.”

Looking up she saw, for just a moment, a human face; not the mask-like one from before, nor the coolly composed one without memories. He wore a human expression of pain, but when she blinked, it was gone.

“It took him,” he said dispassionately.

A very long pause before Lucretia managed, “What did?”

He raised his eyebrows, again as if she were somewhat dense. “I could have stopped it, but—”

He gestured to her, casually; it wasn’t convincing.

“—I was interrupted. How can I control something I no longer possess?”

“I don’t understand. If—it was meant to stop you—he should be here, you have no power here.”

He shrugged. “That would appear to be the problem.”

She stared, heart racing. Hope was catching up to fear, but dread wrenched it back. If Merle wasn’t here, then it was her fault.

She looked at the chess set in her hands, opened it, traced the familiar pieces. She decided on the redwood bishop. When she held it out, John took it through the bars–their hands never touching.

Lucretia closed the chess set and slipped it into her purse, eyes on her hands, dark and lined but not at all like Merle’s. John rolled the bishop through his fingers, closed it in his palm, breathed in.

Lucretia didn’t see. She didn’t look at him as she left, but she heard him speak, and it stopped her for a moment.

“Rest assured, Madame Director—this is not a victory. This is an interruption.”

Without turning, Lucretia replied, “We shall see.”

And when she was through to door, when she was outside and could let her shoulders drop and her breath shake, she added, to herself, “I made a promise.”


End file.
